Malchik Gay
by weapon13WhiteFang
Summary: Working with someone long enough, you start to pick up on some things. Slight Slash and cannon and crack pairing.


**Disclaimer:** Do not own Human Target, or any of its characters. I simply own all the other ones... And my imagination... But sometimes I think fandom owns that, ya know?

**Author's Note:** Music can be very inspirational, can't it? It is for me a good eighty percent of the time. So I guess you can blame this little number on the song Malchick Gay by tATu. And on another note, its kinda random, so I do not care much if people are confused cause even I am as to what the hell I was thinking s I wrote this.

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><p>Jackasses, gay, or taken.<p>

It seemed that every hot guy or bad boy was either of the three. At least that seemed to be what Ames had come to, given the fact that the man she currently had a thing for was not one of these, but all three; well the first one was only in her direction or Winstons.

It had taken her a long time to figure out that Guerrero, one of the most feared men of the underworld, the number one guy you did not want to fuck with... Was gay? OK, scratch that, was bisexual. But still, he had a gay side... Who knew?

Ames certainly hadn't. The man had a kid! Cute little guy too. Sweet, smart, and well mannered (Was he really from Guerrero's seed?). The boys mother was one of Guerrero's ex's... But she wasn't crazy or an ex-criminal, or anything like that. She was a waitress and a home decorator. She was taking classes online for college. A good girl from a middle-class family... How the hell did that hook-up happen?

Ames sighed and lazily stirred her McDonald mocha frappee. Her gaze was trailed on the man of her thoughts, who was currently fixing the conference computer, tools sprawled everywhere and leaning over his work with that oh so familiar look of concentration. Ames pouted, her shoulders slouching as she huffed and sipped her frappee. It wasn't fair!

She had found out by accident, really. They had finished a mission, and her and Chance had been shot at. She'd been disguised as a waitress at their clients party (A miss Everette who was being targeted by her ex-fiancee, who was a mob member. Nothing new, standard crap), while Chance was poised as miss Everette's new boy toy. Winston watched from the surveillance van, and had snapped at Ames for flirting with one of the waiters (Hey! He'd been cute!), when Guerrero pipped up with some snarky comment, which prompted them back to their work.

Guerrero was disguised as the bartender for the party, serving champagne and scotch to anyone who asked for it, not caring to check identification. Typical Guerrero, who ignored Winston's snarls of disapproval as he served a couple that looked a year or two younger than Ames

Then shots were heard. Guys in masks came in guns a blazing through the back fence, and people panicked. Hell broke loose as everyone scrambled this way and that, jumping the fences and falling in the pool, screaming and crying. Younger and older people were trambled or pushed, and Ames had to keep herself from falling as she ran to miss Everette and Chance's position, her gun ready (She was still so happy to be trusted with a gun now!)

Miss Everette was clinging to Chance with fear etched on her every part of her feature. Her hair was loose from its nicely styled bun, and her shoes had gone missing as she cried softly. Chance, being Chance, kept her as calm as she could, while keeping her out of the way of stray bullets and fighting off any of the thugs that got to close. Guerrero had taken down a good few of his own with a knife in the side of two, and was taking down another, when Winston yelled for Chance to look out!

Ames had just made it to the ex-assasin and miss Everette, when Chance let out a snarl and gasp, as blood splattered on Ames and Everette. Chance had been shot in the back shoulder at close range, the bullet going through him! Miss Everette screamed, as her ex-fiancee charged at her, his gun still pointed at Chance, who was glaring and clutching the wound, trying to hide miss Everette behind his bloody form.

Ames had gone blank. She had her gun trained on the guy... But she couldn't shoot him. She'd never shot anyone before. Never killed. That was always Guerrero and Chance and Winston's thing! But Chance as hurt, Winstoin was trying to get through the back to them, yelling into their earpieces, and Guerrero was being overpowered by a large number now (How many thugs did this guy have?).

"Ames! Shoot him!" Guerrero had ordered, as he slammed two guys into each other, trying to get to the stage as Winston showed up, firing at some of the thugs around Guerrero. The lead asshole had heard Guerrero's order, and his eyes had trained on her, his gun going to where his eyes where! He was going to-!

At that point, she'd blacked out. She remembered screaming and the gun going off. But she didn't remember pulling the trigger. She didn't remember Chance and Winston screaming to her. Or even miss Everette going to lung and slam a waiting tray that she'd found, into the back of his head as the pullet hit him. He'd gurgled out a curse, before he hit the ground.

Things had slowed down for her. The thugs, seeing that their payroll and boss was down, began to flee. Cops and Ambulance sirens were heard, echoing and muffled to her ears. Chance was clutching his wound, which was gushing, as Guerrero ran to him, grabbing at the blonde male.

It was at that moment, that Ames knew. During all that chaos, all that screaming and fear. All the blank emotions running through her, that Guerrero liked Chance. He was clutching to the bigger male with a vice like grip. His glasses were askew on his face... And there was fear in his eyes. It was a small light, but it was there. His mask of no emotion, was gone.

After that, she can only remember Winston dragging her back to the van with miss Everette. When her senses came back, she was being patched up by Guerrero. She hadn't said a word or even looked at anyone with any sign that she was functioning. Winston had tried to talk to her, and so had Chance as he was being patched up by one of Guerrero's shady "friends" who was a doctor. But she hadn't said anything.

"You did good," Guerrero had said, as she watched him bandage up her arm, which had been nicked pretty badly by miss Everette's ex. She hadn't even felt it, til the alcohol had been poured on it. "Thanks," was all she'd said, her voice hoarse and distant sounding to her ears.

That had been a week and a half ago. She was slowly able to ease back into her old habits and thoughts. But the week had been a blur and she had pretty much been almost zombie like. Not really talking to her friends or the guys. When she watched Chance do his tai-chi, she would feel sick at the sight of the bandaged gun wound. Now she just felt drained and tired of it all.

"Miss Ames," Ames, dragged from her thoughts, looked up as Ilsa stepped into the kitchen with her tea-cup, heading for the tea pot. "Are you alright?" Ilsa had been panicked when she'd found out about the mission. She had been at a conference in Rome for the Marshall Pucci Foundation. It had taken Winston hours to calm her down. Now she was just cross that no one had called to tell her that her and Chance had gotten hurt.

Ames glanced over at Guerrero, who was now arguing with Winston over what sounded like Guerrero having taken something of Winston's, as Chance, shirtless and wearing sweat-pants and still bandaged, stood between them, trying to play referee with a boyish smile, before looking back at Ilsa whose head was cocked to the side, her new cup of tea held daintily in her hand.

"I'm cool, misses P... Just tired. Majorly no sleep last night." Ilsa gave her a sympathic pat, before sighing and walking to her office, sharing a glance with Chance. Ames didn't miss the subtle, almost undetected, flash of want pass over Guerrero's eyes as he saw the exchange between the two. Ames couldn't help but sulk even more. A weird ass love square or shape was formed.

Great.


End file.
